Wednesday, July 13, 2011

In
this post Padmanabha sets forth his personal appreciation of the
style and content of Rabindranath's short stories.

N.K.
Sidhanta recalls that when Rabindranath started writing, the short
story form had not taken root in India yet.

“But
there was something in the form, in its conciseness and compression,
that appealed to Rabindrnath. He explained in a letter to a friend
that he was repelled by the elaborate convolutions in a long novel,
by the laborious analysis of static situations and of events that had
little significance. Through its brevity the short story subjected
the writer to a discipline, and for a period Rabindranath welcomed
this discipline for his objective writing.” (Rabindranath
Tagore, A Centenary Volume, Sahitya Akademi, 1961)

Syed
Mujtaba Ali, the Bengali poet and writer who studied at Santiniketan
with Rabindranath, has used superlatives to describe his reaction to
Tagore's short stories. Padmanabha starts off with Ali's
comment and covers a slew of
stories to see whether the praise was indeed justified. At a minimum,
this will impel readers to drink at the source, if not in Bengali,
then in English translations, of which several have been released.

Readers
of Rabindranath generally agree that Galpaguchha is one of his
major literary works. With my extremely limited knowledge, I am not
competent to comment on Syed Mujtaba Ali’s claim that
Rabindranath’s short stories are among the finest in world
literature. However, for me, reading Galpaguchha is always an
enriching experience. Each of my favorite pieces is remarkable, as
much for the story it tells, as for the manner in which it is told;
as much for the form, as for the content. Rarely have I come across
such superb examples of the art of story-telling illustrating the
inseparability of form and content. The combination of subtle humor
clothed in polished wit, and profound pathos expressed in exquisite
prose, makes these short stories truly extraordinary.

Noshtoneer
is a story about a married woman falling in love with a person who is
not her husband. Thousands of short stories on this theme must have
been written in every language of the world. What makes Noshtoneer
outstanding is the manner in which Rabindranath brings
out the pangs and sufferings of a woman in love who initially does
not even realize what her heart is aching for. Finally, on realizing
it, and realizing it fully only after she has lost the person she
loves, she gives away everything in the world and desperately holds
on to the pain alone, which she feels is the precious gift her love
has given her.

The way Rabindranath leads his readers through this is
unbelievable. Talking of Noshtoneer, one is naturally tempted
to mention Satyajit Ray’s Charulata which is one of the
finest movies made by Ray. But Charulata is not Noshtoneer.
The medium of film is different from the medium of literature. Again
the inseparability of form and content comes to my mind. Shakespeare
in print is not the same as Shakespeare on stage. Charulata is
wonderful. Noshtoneer is dazzling.

Streer
Patra is Tagore’s reaction to the typical heartlessness with
which traditional Bengali middle class families of a certain era used
to handle cases of unfortunate girls like Bindu. To voice his
protest, he has created Mrinal, a woman with the courage to stand up
against injustice by demanding a more dignified treatment of women;
this is the courage Tagore would like to see in every person in
society. The words of bitterness and anger that we read in Mrinal’s
letter are rather unusual for Tagore. It is not one of his best
stories perhaps, but it does reflect the intensity of his hatred
toward male chauvinism and injustice against women.

Generations
of readers have been mesmerized by the extraordinary tale told in
Kshudhita Pashan in which a person is brought by circumstances
to a house where he partially loses himself and almost starts living
out his fantasy of a long bygone era. The prose style in the story
told in the first person narrative is magical, a product of great
craftsmanship. It must be ranked as one of the Tagore’s best.

The
two stories Konkal and Monihara also serve to
illustrate how good Tagore is in telling tales that have a touch of
supernatural elements, a bit comic in the first one and eerie in the
latter. Both are extremely enjoyable.

Postmaster
is a landmark in the history of Bengali literature, as it ushered in
the age of modern short stories. In a tale told in a rather
simple style, the author explores the heart of a young girl, a child
really, serving with devotion the village Postmaster, whose name the
readers do not get to know, and do not need to know either, because
he exists in the story just to help the author explore the feelings
of the girl as they evolve.

When the Postmaster drops the news of his
departure, he drops, albeit unknowingly, a ton of bricks on the head
of the poor child who shows no emotion on receiving it, and gives the
world no clue to the tumult inside her. The kind words uttered by the
Postmaster while leaving are all that is needed to make the girl
break down inconsolably, and thus the author discovers a woman in
love in this young child. The economy and simplicity of style with
which the story is told leave me breathless and, while reflecting on
Postmaster, all I can do is to recall Wallace Stevens’
saying: “A poem of the mind in the act of finding what will
suffice” (Of Modern Poetry).

Ginni
tells the story of a little boy who suffers on account of the
thoughtlessness and insensitivity of his teacher, and friends who
ridicule him for the ‘grave crime’ of playing with his sister on
a holiday. In Denapawna we
read the pathetic story of a father unable to meet the demand
for dowry by his daughter’s father–in-law. In a typical satire,
Tagore ends the story with people proudly reporting to the devastated
father the grandeur of the cremation of his daughter. The
insensitivity of the world to the pain suffered silently by an
individual is a theme that recurs in many of the stories of
Galpaguchha.

Taraprasanner
Kirti is the simple story of a husband devoid of worldly wisdom
but pampered by a wife whose life she feels has been wasted by giving
birth to daughters only!

Muktir
Upay and Prayashchitta entertain the readers with crisp
humor and comic endings.

Some
of Tagore’s short stories remind me of O Henry, and others of Edgar
Allan Poe. Anadhikar Prabesh belongs to the first category. I
have met characters like Jaykali in real life. But the ending of the
story is as unexpected as it is pleasing. On the other hand, I like
to think that Poe would fancy the plots of Konkal and Sampatti
Samarpan, if he could
have read these stories. However, Rabindranath’s inimitable style
of writing is exactly what leaves such a powerful impression on the
readers of these stories. Both make wonderful reading, one for its
humor and the other for its sadness.

Atithi
and Kabuliwala are likewise two great short stories written by
Tagore. Tarapada in Atithi easily becomes the object of strong
affection for anybody coming in contact with him, but he slips away
from the bonds that people try to bind him with. The only thing that
he consistently does in life is to move on. Finally, when he senses
love entering his life, a love that he may no longer be able to
resist, he simply disappears into the great impersonal universe from
which he will never return. This is an astounding story of the
eternal journey of a human soul resting in a wayside resort for a
while and taking to the road at the next opportunity – which is a
favorite thought of Rabindranath regarding life and death.

There
is nothing extraordinary about a little girl in the city reminding a
Kabuliwala of his daughter whom he has left back in his distant
homeland, and who becomes the only source of comfort for him in his
otherwise unhappy city life. But the way Rabindranath makes such an
unforgettable short story out of this theme is something that never
ceases to amaze me. Again, the inseparability of form and content
becomes the relevant issue, an issue which is relevant to the entire
Galpaguchha.

Every
time I read them, I feel that stories like Postmaster, Kabuliwala,
Noshtoneer and Kshudita Pashan do
lend solid support to Mujtaba Ali’s claim.

Posted by
Management - Learning from Experiences by Reflection
at
10:55 AM

3 comments:

Anonymous
said...

What a wonderful job you did, Padmanabha! It was worth the wait for this great piece. Thank you.KumKum

Padmanabha writes in reply to the comment of Anonymous on Oct 7, 2015:I can only guess that it is some kind of tantric ritual which, people believed, could transform a dead person into a spirit that guarded the treasure one would like to protect from unauthorised persons. The question of validity of such beliefs is quite irrelevant to the story, which only deals with the kind of tragedy such belief may lead to.